


Yellow Carnations

by RuckyStarnes (GracieForeth)



Series: Steve Rogers One Shots [9]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 19:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracieForeth/pseuds/RuckyStarnes
Summary: No one could be prepared for this kind of loss





	Yellow Carnations

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: child death, vomiting, funeral, angst angst angst

Steve’s hand moved swiftly to wipe at his cheek, the dampness spreading over his whiskered skin before falling back to the black tie around his neck. He hated this, loathed it immensely. All his years on earth and the death he had witnessed, the loss he had felt, didn’t make him hard hearted as one would think it would. The pain was unbearable, like a thousand pins stuck in his chest causing him agony with each breath. It was different from when he lost his mother, or even Bucky the first time. It was suffocating and endless, worse than when he lost Peggy.

He felt the hand on his shoulder bringing him back from his thoughts. A hand that was familiar, but it wasn’t the hand he wanted, needed. There was no denying that it belonged to his best friend, there to check up on him, make sure he wasn’t too wrapped up in his mind.

“How ya doin’, Steve?” Bucky asked softly. He didn’t turn, didn’t move. He knew Bucky was genuinely concerned about how his friend was feeling, but it pissed Steve off. He didn’t mean to snap, especially at his best friend, and Bucky would take it as his grieving process. Steve fumbled with the black satin around his neck, cursing under his breath at the blasted fabric that seemed to not want to work the way he needed it. “Here,” Bucky said softly, standing in front of his friend and taking the tie in his hand as Steve’s dropped. He smoothed the tie after he was done, then buttoned the vest for him.

“Have you seen her?” Bucky asked softly, his eyes down casted, working the last button before grabbing the black jacket.

Steve shook his head, sniffing softly as he let Bucky out the jacket on him. “She blames me,” he whispered. His eyes were shining with the new round of tears, the feeling of guilt rushing over him.

“No she doesn’t,” Bucky sighed, his brow furrowed as he smoothed Steve’s sleeves. “No one blames you, never have and never will. Steve, you blame yourself and hold yourself for accountable for something you had no control over.” He looked at the blond with a strained look. It was the first time Steve actually looked at his friend. Bucky’s eyes were glassy, rimmed red as he tried to keep a neutral façade. This was hard on almost everyone. Scratch that, even a stranger would have been taking this hard. “You can’t beat yourself up over this.” Steve looked at him like he was crazy. No matter how much Bucky tried to convince him, he will always blame himself.

Bucky sighed, conceding that he wasn’t going to change his friend’s mind, blaming his roots of being an Irishmen for being extremely stubborn. “You ready?” The question was soft, but Steve could hear the tightness in his friends voice to know that this was going to be the hardest thing than any of them had to do. He gave his friend a curt nod, walking out of the small room.

The car ride was deafening quiet, both men agreeing that any kind of music wasn’t appropriate today. As they turned down Van Sicklen, Steve’s stomach lurched and motioned for Bucky to pull the car over, which he then promptly opened the door and emptied the contents of his stomach. He felt Bucky’s hand in his shoulder, rubbing and patting Steve to bring him comfort.

“Let me know when you’re okay,” Bucky whispered.

Steve’s shoulder shook as he choked back a sob, his body slumping back against the carseat, eyes closing. “I…I just need a minute,” he whispered, his lower lip trembling. Bucky nodded and pulled out his phone, sending a text to Natasha to let her know they were running late. He prayed that she wasn’t dealing with the same with the other Rogers, but he knew that was a lofty hope. It was bad enough that Steve was broken, he couldn’t imagine how his wife was, as she had isolated herself the last six days from everyone, including Steve.

Steve was convinced this all happened because of him, that she blamed him for the pain and heartache, but it wasn’t really true. She blamed herself, wishing she could have done more, but that was further from the truth as well. Shit happens, life isn’t fair, that’s what Bucky wish he could tell his friend, but it was too insensitive and inappropriate for something like this, so all he could do was watch his friend wreck himself until he become a shell.

“Okay,” Steve said, voice quivering as his he ran his palms along his thighs. With a silent nod, Bucky continued to the church. The sight of the building made Steve feel even more uneasy. The last time he was at Saints Simon and Jude was for his wedding, but it was the same church his parents had him baptized and where he witnessed his mother’s funeral. Bucky parked in the front, behind the hearse that seemed too big for its duty that day.

The steps seemed foreboding, the people inside made it even more depressing. No one talked above a whisper and they all seemed to hide off to the side, no one dating to enter through the heavy doors to the main part of the church, afraid to come face to face with the reality that was lying there. The black was unsettling to Steve, even more so the small, yellow carnations.

Her favorite flower.

Steve barely registered Bucky’s hand on his upper arm, guiding him further, his mind reminiscing days that felt just moments ago. People came to him, offering their condolences with hugs, shoulder squeezes, and hand holding. His best friend made sure none lingered too long, knowing his friend didn’t like to be doted on, even by the ones he loved.

“She shouldn’t be alone,” Bucky offered, stopping by the ornate doors, arm around the blond’s shoulders. The look Steve gave him made the brunet tut and shake his head. “She needs you just like you need her. Stop pretending. For Sarah’s sake.” The wince Steve made was enough to break Bucky’s cool exterior, tears welling in his eyes and he had to clear his throat to continue. “Nat’s in there right now. We’re gonna give you two some time before service,” he went on, opening the door enough to let Steve in, following right after.

Steve stayed by the door, which Bucky was content with, finding a seat in a pew towards the back. The redhead was up front, sitting in her own pew with the head of the mother resting on her shoulder. It made Steve’s heart fall as he watch those shoulders move up and down, giving him sign of grieving. He didn’t know when his brainchild him his feet to move, but he was now standing at the end of their pew, his eyes meeting the green of Nat’s knowing look. She whispered something too low for Steve to hear but the other woman nodded before the redhead took her leave to sit next to Bucky.

It was a long few moments before he stepped in and took seat next to her, his hand tentatively reaching for hers, which she took as soon as it was offered.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her hand moving to dab at her nose with a tissue, “I miss her.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, throat tight.

“Steve, it’s not your fault…”

“And it’s not yours.”

That was the first time they had looked at each other in six days. He could see her eyes were red, her face puffy. She had to been crying non-stop since. He moved her hand in his other so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders, eyes closing as he pulled her close.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he soothed, fingers running gently over her scalp, “I should have stayed.”

She could only nod, turning her face into his neck as she started to cry fresh tears. He sat there, holding his wife, pressing kisses to her temple when needed as his hand held hers. The deacon notified them that they had only a few more moments to themselves before the doors opened to the rest of the gathering to offer their last goodbyes. It took a few moments of her own to gain the strength to get up with Steve to walk the five feet to the small, oak coffin they had picked.

There was nothing that could prepare them for this moment. The coffin was ornate, Tony wanted to make sure it was the best and the most beautiful, because that’s what Sarah was to all them. Steve could feel his wife’s fingers grips his tightly as they took their standing right next to the box. She looked asleep, dreaming of the horse she so desperately wanted for her birthday in the dress she picked for the occasion, only three months shy.

“I wonder how you say goodbye to someone forever?”

The question was soft, but the words weighed heavy on him. How did you? Especially to someone who barely lived her life. He watched his wife leaned in and placed a kiss to Sarah’s forehead, whispering her love to their daughter before pulling back to bury her face into his chest. He couldn’t offer any words, his eyes fixed on the little blonde surrounded by white satin. His fingers brushed along her cheeks, adding his own words of love and apologies before he moved them both back to the pew.


End file.
